Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 64: Mark Of The Plant

We move in silence, four shadows pressed tight to the warped edges of the hallway as we climb the steps to the fourth floor. The air thickens with every step, heavy with the scent of dust, blood, and the sickly-sweet tang of sap. The roots are denser here, writhing from the cracks in the walls and curling around the banisters, pulsing faintly as if they're breathing with us. Disgusting power. freёweɓnovel.com

The staircase feels endless, the shadows deepening with each landing. The proctor's power warps the architecture, stretching the corridors so that every hallway feels doubled, tripled, repeated until I can't tell how long we've been walking. Such a god damn annoying building.

No one speaks, but the questions churn in my head. When we reach the battered landing, I finally give voice to one, tossing it into the darkness as we pause to catch our breath. "Why did they put all the girls on the top floor? But spread out the boys between two and three?" My words hang in the air, unanswered. Kaizen just shrugs, gaze fixed on the floor, and Elijah shakes his head. Artemis only flicks her ears back, the fur along their edges bristling with unease. None of us have an answer.

We push forward, boots crunching over broken tile and the occasional fragment of glass. The hallway stretches impossibly long, lined with doors that gape open on empty, ruined rooms. I can't shake the thought that we're being watched. I glance sidelong at Artemis, watching the way her feline form moves silent, graceful, predatory. She looks every bit the apex hunter, but her eyes are distant, fixed on something I can't see. A thought tugs at me, unexpected. I slow, then stop, blocking her path with my arm. "Now that I think about it," I say, "Why weren't you on the top floor with the other girls?"

She retracts her teeth, her face softening for just a heartbeat before a sad smile flickers across her lips. "I was coming down to speak to Jay," she says quietly. Her voice is laced with sadness. "He was one of my closest friends. He grew up with me and Alaster..." Her eyes harden as she says the dead boy's name, and for a moment, something cold and feral sparks there. I just nod, indifferent accepting her explanation, feeling no pity or regret for what I did to Alaster. He challenged me. He lost. End of story.

I let her words hang between us for a moment, then turn and push onward, jaw set.

We're barely halfway down the corridor when Artemis's hand snaps out, claws pressing lightly into my wrist. I freeze, and she leans in, her breath hot against my ear. "I can hear screaming ahead," she whispers, voice so low I almost miss it.

I tense, straining my senses, but all I hear is the distant groan of the building and the soft, anxious breaths of my companions. Even the faint booms I heard earlier from the first floor have fully stopped.

Elijah and Kaizen trade nervous glances, both of them cocking their heads, trying to catch a sound I can't. I scowl, frustrated. "I don't hear anything," I hiss. "It's like the building's... nerfing my senses."

Elijah steps closer, voice barely above a whisper. "I can't hear anything either. How far away?"

Artemis closes her eyes, pointed ears twitching, face tightening in concentration. The hall is silent except for the pulse of our hearts. Finally, she opens her eyes, yellow and wild in the gloom. "Not far," she says, her voice flat. "He's fighting a group of girls. Right now." The way she says fighting makes my skin crawl. There's no hope in her tone. Just the flat, brutal truth of a massacre in progress.

We move as one, urgency sharpening every step. I take point, sword at the ready, and Artemis slinks right on past me. Elijah and Kaizen follow, both tense, eyes wide, hands hovering near their respective swords that we looted from rooms we passed, ready to unleash hell at a moment's notice.

Artemis's nostrils flare as she tilts her head. "There's more than one girl left," she whispers. "But not many."

"Does he know we're coming?" Kaizen asks, voice shaking.

Artemis's head tilts, ears swiveling. "No. He's... focused. He's enjoying it."

I flick my gaze over my companions, seeing the resolve settle into their faces. Elijah's jaw is set, Kaizen's fingers spark with the faint glow of fire, and Artemis's claws flex, itching for a fight.

We creep forward, each step deliberate, every sense straining. The building itself moans and shifts, the proctor's power warping the walls so we can never be sure how close we truly are. But finally we reach the final bend in the hallway. Artemis freezes, raising a clawed hand. I halt the others with a silent gesture, pressing my back against the wall. I can hear something now a wet, meaty sound, punctuated by the high, choked sobs of someone still alive. Artemis's ears flatten; her lips peel back in a snarl.

"Ready?" I murmur, barely audible.

Kaizen nods, fire flickering between his palms. Elijah's hand pressed tight to my shoulder, his power cloaking us in total invisibility

We round the corner. The scene unfolds in a nightmare tableau.

In the center of the corridor stands the killer a man cloaked in black, face masked in twisted silver, horns curving up from his brow. He's surrounded by a garden of nightmares: massive, blood-slick vines undulating at his feet, their stems bristling with thorns the size of daggers. The plants move with unnatural intelligence, curling around the limbs and necks of his victims, pulsing as if savoring the taste of blood.

None of us make a sound, but we all freeze, transfixed by the scene unfolding before us. The killer doesn't see us due to Elijahs mark but even if we weren't cloaked he wouldn't. He's too busy playing god.

Two girls dangle in the air, their uniforms torn and ragged, blood dripping from their wounds. The vines have them by the waist, their arms and legs limp, faces slack with shock and terror. The killer tilts his head, amused, and lets out a low, delighted chuckle that raises the hairs on the back of my neck. He raises a hand, and the vines respond, coiling tighter around the girls' bodies. Without hesitation, he jerks his hand upward, and the vines snap them into the ceiling like they're nothing but discarded ragdolls. There's a sickening crunch—a wet, final sound—and blood spatters across the cracked tiles above.

Artemis's claws dig into my arm so hard she breaks skin, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. Kaizen's trembling is so violent I can feel it through Elijah's grip. Even I have to fight to keep my breathing steady, bile rising in my throat as I watch the bodies twitch, then hang still, broken.

I had wondered, why none of the first years tried to fight back. Why there were no burn marks, or shattered roots, or any sign of resistance really. But then I recall the faces of the other bodies littering the halls and rooms I've passed all of those pale, wide-eyed, mouths frozen in silent screams and I understand. These are kids. Most of them have never seen real violence, never been forced to kill or die. They don't have real training, or experience.

The voices in my head seethe at the display. Their rage is electric hot and crackling, flooding my skull with white noise. How dare he, they hiss in unholy outrage. How dare this mongrel touch what is ours. Only you, Ayato. Only a god is permitted to kill so indiscriminately and HE IS NOT. Punish him. Show him what true divinity looks like.

The air seems to vibrate with their fury, and I almost welcome it. There's no room for fear or hesitation only the cold, precise calculation of what comes next. My eyes track every movement of the killer, the way his vines twitch and slither, the lazy confidence in his posture. He thinks he's untouchable, a reaper strolling through his own private field of corpses.

I force myself to focus, to breathe, to push the voices to the edge of my awareness. I won't lose myself to their hunger. Instead, I let their anger sharpen my own, turning everything I feel into a single, burning point of resolve.

I glance at Artemis, at the tension in her jaw, the savage gleam in her yellow eyes. Kaizen's fists are clenched, fire flickering between his fingers, barely contained. Elijah squeezes my shoulder, his own face white but determined.

Violence explodes with no warning. The instant Elijah's hand leaves my shoulder, the cloak of invisibility evaporates like smoke. In that heartbeat, we're exposed but it's does not matter. One moment, the plant user is striding down the ruined hallway, wreathed in the gore-slicked glory of his massacre. The next, my sword is already arcing for his back, the blade singing through the air with lethal intent. Artemis surges beside me, a blur, her claws lengthening, slashing at his side with all the force and speed her feline form can conjure. Per the plan Kaizen hangs back with Elijah still cloaked waiting for an opening.

But it's not enough sadly. The plants react faster than instinct, faster than thought. A wall of plants erupts between my blade and the killer's spine, catching the edge of my strike and sending a jolt through my arms. Roots lash out at Artemis, catching her mid-air and hurling her back she lands on all fours, claws digging into the tile, spitting in fury yellow eyes narrowed in hate. Vines burst from the floor, whipping toward me. I twist, slicing them apart, but more take their place, writhing and convulsing like a nest of snakes.

I sneer considering our options, Kaizen wont be able to use his fire with us this close. His power is just as dangerous to us as to the killer if we're in his blast zone. By the time we regain our bearings, the plant user has already turned. He moves with a casual, predatory grace, plants parting before him like a living tide. His silver demon mask obscures his expression, but his eyes burn through the slits: teal, bright as poison, pupils wide with ecstasy and amusement.

"What's this?" he drawls, voice muffled but dripping with mockery. " The empire's dogs coming to die willingly?" His plants coil around him, thick and pulsing, sliding across the walls and ceiling like a living shield.

I sneer, deflecting another volley of thorns with my sword. What the hell is this guy's power? The plants don't just obey him they anticipate, defend and retaliate. It doesn't even seem like he's consciously controlling them. They move like extensions of his will, automatic and unrelenting, as if he's the heart of some monstrous organism.

The killer laughs a sound that crawls under my skin, oily and cold. "Others tried fighting back too," he says, amusement slithering through every word. "Congrats you've lasted the longest." He lifts his hand in a lazy gesture, and a thick patch of his plants snap to attention at his side, writhing and twisting in the air. Before my eyes, it contorts and hardens, bark splitting and oozing sap as wicked thorns spiral outward, interlaced with blood-red petals. The blade it forms is jagged and unnatural, barbed like the maw of some carnivorous plant, its edge dripping with a viscous green sap.

He waves his hand, and the plants pull back from us. For a moment, the hallway is silent except for the wet drip of sap and the ragged breaths of the dying girls behind him. The tension is electric, the promise of violence hanging in the air. He cocks his head, plants stilling as if holding their breath. "Come, then, children. Entertain me."